


Smarts and Mischief

by hogsmeadewritings



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Dirty Talk, Dreams, Dreams and Nightmares, F/M, Flashbacks, Friends to Lovers, Magic, Nightmares, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Praise Kink, Quidditch, Rough Sex, Smut, Sneaking Around, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:36:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29526504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hogsmeadewritings/pseuds/hogsmeadewritings
Summary: After the war, Hermione Granger moves into the Burrow to start fresh, not at all interested in starting anything with any of the Weasley boys. Fred? He has other plans for the young witch.Mature content to come. Reader discretion advised.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Fred Weasley
Comments: 11
Kudos: 55





	1. One.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The war is over and things can begin to mend and blossom once more.

Everything had led to this. All of it. The stone, the chamber, saving Sirius, the tournament, the department of mysteries, Dumbledore's death, the great search and destroy mission. Everything had brought Hermione and her friends right to this very moment. To this moment running through the halls of her second home with her two best friends as war raged on in full swing all around them. They had known, for years, that this moment would come and none of them were surprised but that didn't take the sting out of seeing the things that surrounded them. The beautiful stained glass windows shattered, explosions left holes in the ancient walls. Knowing this had been coming didn't make it any easier to see their classmates dropping left and right. But a small victory had just been won, at the very least. Their search for the horcruxes was nearly over! They'd found the lost diadem of Ravenclaw and it had been destroyed. It was a down moment for the three of them as they made our way back towards the main battle, away from the room of requirement from whence they'd just come.

"But don't you realize," Hermione started, her voice low, only audible to Harry and Ron. "This means if we can just get the snake — " But she was cut off. Yelling and the sounds of a nearby duel had broken our conversation and as our heads turned, they were met with a sight that didn't sit well with any of them. Ron's older brothers Percy and Fred were being backed inward by a pair of cloaked figures, Death Eaters. So of course, they leapt to action, running to the aid of Fred and Percy. Hermione wasn't paying much attention to what was being said around her, her full focus on protecting pieces of her family. Yes. The Weasley's were her family. At least in a certain sense. She'd spent so many holidays at The Burrow with them, they'd treated her far more kindly than most, and now that her own parents would no longer remember who she was, they would be her last hope when all was said and done. But something did catch her attention last second. The beginnings of a blasting curse from one of the Death Eaters. All five of them were at risk and her mind acted on its own, a countercurse shooting from the end of her wand and rebounding the curse against its caster. Augustus Rookwood. And for a moment? Everything stopped. The five of them exchanged glances but this only lasted for a moment before acromantulas had started to crawl through one of the many holes in the walls and they were right back to defending in a battle that lasted for many more hours but felt like a lifetime.

But finally, oh finally, it was all over. Hogwarts had won. Harry had won. Tom Riddle was gone for good and the world they knew could begin to mend. Hermione took her time, as everyone else did, to say goodbye to fallen friends and loved ones, but when that was done, she excused herself quietly and started outside, headed for her favorite place. A quiet place. A place she was sure had been untouched by the war and blood and fighting. Still covered in dust and sweat, her hair matted with the efforts she'd been through, her feet carried her by memory to the large exposed tree root on the shore of the black lake. How much time had she spent studying on this root? Studying or reading or just watching the surface of the water. A safe space, away from the sometimes stuffy castle interior, away from the often loud common room, away from the tempting tables of the Great Hall. It was just as quiet now, she realized, settling cross legged on the root, her eyes fixed on the water. It didn't last long. Her eyelids fluttered and fell closed, nails digging into the root as the tears started. Proper mourning had begun, it seemed. Crying over the souls lost in the battle. It wasn't surprising that they'd delayed themselves until now. Hermione never had been too fond of crying in front of other people. This was further proven by the way the tears stopped the instant she heard her name uttered from behind her.

"Granger..."

Pale hands raised, wiping at her cheeks as her eyes opened again. The voice was familiar but there was something different about it. Normally the voice was happy and floated on laughter but now? It was somber and quiet. Serious in a way that she wasn't expecting it to be. And so Hermione turned, worry pulling at her features as her eyes met Fred Weasley's. He was leaned against a tree, arms folded over his chest and ginger brows furrowed as he watched the young witch where she sat. Again she wiped at her face, desperate to hide the tear tracks as best she could. If Fred was being serious, something had to be wrong. Something had happened after she'd left the castle. But she'd left on her own, she realized. How had he found her so quickly? There was no chance to bring that up, though. No, Fred was speaking. Beating Hermione to speech was a feat in and of itself and so she was stunned to silence.

"Saw you wander off on your own," he started, approaching the root and settling in beside Hermione carefully. "Realized I owed you a thank you. For before. 'Course I can't be sure but I've a feeling I might not have made it out alive if you hadn't blocked that curse." She started to argue but was cut off by Fred raising a single hand. "Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe not. S'pose that doesn't really matter. Point is, I want to thank you for it." Again, Hermione's mouth opened to argue but she was the one to stop herself this time, mouth closing once more. What was there to argue? It wasn't as if she could say that no, she hadn't saved his life. There was no proof for that one way or the other. She couldn't tell him not to thank her; if that was what he felt he needed to do, so be it. Still, she didn't feel deserving of the thanks and so she settled on something simple. "You would have done the same if the situation had been reversed." And of course he nodded in response, folding his arms over his middle again.

"You're right. I would have. D'you remember those nights when you would fall asleep on the couch in the common room but somehow always ended up back in your dorm?" A pause for Hermione to nod, silently urging him to continue though she already knew where it was headed. "I always carried you up. When you were good and out and I was sure you wouldn't wake up..."

"But," Hermione started, actually finding her voice again for a moment. "What about the stairs? How could you possibly when the stairs are enchanted?" What a silly question. If she had thought about it, just a little longer, she would have remembered who she was talking to. Fred Weasley. One of two of the most mischievous students Hogwarts had ever known. Of course he'd found some way around it and at first, she expected him to brag about whatever that may have been. Instead he shook his head.

"What students aren't meant to know is that those magics are intentions based. The stairs could see I only wanted you to sleep comfortably. You know, quite possibly the purest intentions I ever had here at Hogwarts," he joked quietly, bumping her arm with his elbow gently, and Hermione couldn't help but to laugh, though the sound was quiet and tired, softer than normal. A silence fell on the pair, a silence in which they both studied the surface of the water. For anyone else, the silence might have been awkward or uncomfortable but that wasn't the case here. If anything, Hermione had never felt more safe. It wasn't the first time she'd been alone with Fred and she knew it wouldn't be the last but she couldn't put a finger on a single time she'd felt safer in his presence. He was the one to break the silence after a few long moments, pushing off the root and standing to his full height again. "We should get back, don't you think? Reckon we're missed," he suggested, to which she nodded, pulling herself to her feet. Without allowing her time to argue, he turned and stooped down. "You look exhausted, Granger. Up. I'll carry you. The least I can do, yeah?" And the aching in her feet and legs convinced her that arguing wasn't in her best interest, so up she climbed, arms securing around his neck and shoulders as he lifted her from the earth and caught the backs of her knees in his large, pale hands.

When they finally reached the castle and reunited with the rest of the Weasley's and Harry in the Great Hall, questioning looks were received as Fred set Hermione back to her feet but no one brought it up. No, it quickly became clear that everyone was still focused on the joy of being alive and the mourning of the loved ones lost. Molly was the first to address Hermione directly. "Ron and Harry've told me all about what you had to do to join them on their little journey. Will you be reversing the memory charm or did you have other plans?" she asked, only for Hermione to freeze for a moment. She had expected this talk eventually but not this soon, so she was left stammering and trying to piece together her thoughts.

"Well, Mrs. Weasley, I... Was actually hoping to not have to put them through the pain of recovering memories. Or the trauma of a stranger showing up on their doorstep and claiming to be their daughter. I could but I just wouldn't feel right. It would — " she started, only for Molly to cut her off.

"We've more than enough room now with Percy out of the house. You're more than welcome to stay with us until you're on your feet."

It seemed it had been settled and Hermione knew far better than to argue with Mrs. Weasley. That didn't keep her from noticing the almost smug smile that crept onto Fred's face from where he stood chatting with his mirror and their father.

Ah yes.  
It had begun.


	2. Two.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione recalls a specific instance of being alone with our favorite Weasley before he discovers the word carved into her arm.

The Burrow was a beautiful country home. Well. At least in Hermione's opinion. She always found it rather endearing, albeit anxiety inducing, that it extended up rather than out. The slight lean to the building always worried her but years of visiting had proven that the building was sturdy and thus she had no reason to do so. It was her new home now. Percy's former room had been cleared out and Mrs. Weasley and Ginny had helped Hermione make it her own. In one corner sat her single bed, donning white bedding, accented with light blues and purple in the stitching and embroidery. In another corner, in the nook of the window, was a surprisingly large, at least for the room, armchair with a side table and lamp; a reading corner for Hermione to spend her free time curled up in. The wall by the door was home to an old brown dresser that had once belonged to Percy and now housed all of Hermione's belongings, what little she still had. On top of this dresser sat bottles of lotions, the occasional makeup item, and perfumes.

Hermione had claimed the space and she and her cat, Crookshanks, were more than comfortable here. Things were so different now. There was no fear, no need for protection spells, no worries of getting a call or owl that another loved one had been killed. For the first time in a long time, Hermione, and everyone else for that matter, could relax. While she herself wasn't a fan of flying, from her reading nook in her room, she could watch as the Weasley children played Quidditch in a field behind the home. No, she wasn't a fan of flight, but she did enjoy watching the playful soaring through the skies and even further enjoyed the bickering over who had really won when the group returned in the evening. Bickering that always ended with Mrs. Weasley snapping at the lot of them just as any mother would to silence unnecessary arguments. It was nice, Hermione thought, to exist as part of a family. She had always been an only child and that had been nice but there was nothing like watching the dynamic between siblings. A dynamic she hadn't had until she'd met the Weasley's.

It was another night of quidditch and Hermione had spent the evening watching from the comfort of her chair until she could see the four redheaded teens wandering back home. Tucking her bookmark in its place, she pulled herself to her feet and made her way down to the kitchen, just in time to find the others coming through the door. As expected, the bickering was rampant, Ginny's voice carrying above the rest. From what Hermione could gather, Ron and Ginny had lost for the first time in a while and were insisting the twins had cheated, all as they settled into chairs at the kitchen table. Hermione found herself laughing quietly as she fetched glasses of ice water for the four, slightly tuned out until her name reached her ears.

"I say next match, we drag Granger down to the field and get an unbiased scorekeep," Fred was insisting, his eyes finding Hermione's form and for a moment? She thought she might have seen them wander down and then back up. Normally, that wouldn't have sat well with her but something about this instance, the fact that it was Fred, made it tolerable. "Whaddya say, Granger? You wouldn't dream of letting us down would you?" And this of course gave room for pause as four pairs of eyes focused on the brunette expectantly. Her mouth opened, closed, and then opened again, finally allowing her voice to ring out.

"I suppose it couldn't hurt, right? A bit of fresh air?" she offered at last, to which George laughed.

"Bit of fresh air is right. You hardly leave your room. Nose always in a book. We miss having you out and about, 'Mione. Swear you won't back out on us?"

"Oh, could you lot leave the girl alone? She's not obligated to anything for us," Ginny piped up, glancing toward the other girl and offering a sympathetic roll of the eyes. Hermione couldn't help the breath of a laugh that left her as she shook her head.

"Oh, it's alright. Yes, George, I promise I'll be there. No matter what. But shouldn't you all get cleaned up? Molly and Arthur will be home soon and I doubt they'd like to come home to a kitchen full of sweaty, smelly Weasleys," Hermione teased, setting each glass in front of one of the gingers. She watched as each glass was drained quickly and by the time she moved to grab them, three of the four young adults were already gone, headed upstairs and arguing over who would get the shower first. Left behind? Fred, who was now gathering up the empty glasses and setting them in the basin of the sink. That was what made her stop. Fred had stayed behind? It seemed he'd been finding reason upon reason to be left alone with Hermione. That in itself was strange. He and George, in all the years she'd known them, were rarely apart, but now? It seemed that every time she turned around, Fred was there.

The first time had been after the war by the lake, but there had been other instances. A family trip to the market where Hermione'd had to run back inside at the last second to be sure Crookshanks had food, Fred was waiting for her outside the door. A late night where Hermione had been the last to have a shower before creeping off to bed, Fred had been outside the bathroom with his toothbrush in hand, offering some lame excuse about how he'd forgotten. A day when Hermione had been sure she was the only one home. That was the one she remembered particularly clearly, partially because it had been so startling to realize that she, in fact, wasn't home alone.

*****

Hermione knew one thing very well. Mrs. Weasley was a busy lady. Having reared seven children had to have taken a toll. Before she'd even agreed to allow Hermione to live in her home, the young witch had made a silent oath to help Molly keep her home as neat and clean as possible. It was the least she could do, she had decided beforehand. So, while the family was out, taken out to eat by Harry, Hermione had declined the offer, claiming she needed a bit of alone time, only so that she could make good on her silent promise. Bushy brown hair had been swept into a ponytail and she'd set to work washing the morning dishes.

Now the Burrow was never a silent place. There was a Ghoul in the attic that made sure of that, even when the house was empty, but she had never once heard the Ghoul mimic footsteps. Still elbow deep in hot water and suds, the young woman froze as she heard the thuds indicative of someone descending the stairs and landing on the main floor. As the steps came to a halt, Hermione had whipped around, yanking her wand from where she'd secured it behind her hair tie, raised and ready to defend herself and the home. But she was met only with one of the many ginger family members. Fred. How did she know? The tiny scar above his left brow. It seemed she was the only one that ever noticed it and was the only one who could ever effectively tell the twins apart. A sigh was heaved as she lowered her wand again before tucking it back in her hair, leaving behind a few bubbles and already mildly annoyed by Fred's growing grin.

"Threatening me in my own home, Granger? That's not like you," he'd said, crossing the room and settling back against the counter's edge. Hermione rolled her eyes, turning back to the dishes.

"What are you even doing here, Frederick? Shouldn't you be with your family?"

"Aren't you part of our family now? Mum said you were staying behind, thought I'd do the same to make sure you were alright. 'S a good thing I did, too. What would you have done if that'd been someone else coming down those stairs? You can't tell me you aren't the least bit relieved to see it was only little ol' me?" he argued, and though she wasn't looking at him, she could hear his grin in his voice. Typical, she thought. Even when he'd scared someone half to death, he was smiling. "Anyway. Can see you're busy. I'll be up in my room if you need anything," he offered when she didn't respond. And with that, he pushed off the edge of the counter, reached up to carefully wipe a few of the bubbles from Hermione's hair, and made his way back upstairs, stopping on the first landing to yell back down to her. "You're cute when you're being all domestic, Granger."

*****

Fred was gathering up the glasses and Hermione found herself already heading for the sink to switch on the hot water and wash them clean again. Once again, Fred had come to lean against the counter's edge, watching every move the younger made. Neither of them spoke and for a moment, Hermione thought he might have been in his own head, lost in thought about something. That wasn't particularly like him, or any of his siblings, so her head raised for her to voice her concern, only to find him staring at her. Blood pooled in her cheeks and her eyes lowered again, back to the glass in her hand.

"Relax, Hermione. I told you before. Domestic looks good on you."

"Why aren't you off trying to get the first shower?" she asked, choosing to ignore his words for now.

"What's the point? Ginny always wins that argument. Then Ron. Figured I'd be nice and let Georgie at least get third this time. And you've been alone all evening. Can't hurt to spend a little time annoying you, can it?"

Hermione's chest rose and fell with a sigh, and as she lifted another glass to clean, her grip failed, the glass slipped and shattered against the ceramic basin. In a last ditch attempt to save the glass, before it hit the sink, she reached for it, only for one of the shards to cut into her palm, a quiet yelp falling from her lips. Blood was quick to pool and drip into the sink, Hermione clenching her fist just a quickly to prevent further spill. Fred worked even quicker, shutting the water off and guiding the girl to sit in one of the table chairs. "Stay there. I'll get the kit Mum keeps under the sink," was all he said before stepping away and returning again with a small wicker box. He pulled another chair to rest in front of Hermione and had already taken her hand into his lap before she could protest.

"Fred this really isn't necessary, I-"

But they both froze, their eyes on the same thing. A dreadful series of scars along her forearm that spelled out a far more dreadful word. 'Mudblood'. A permanent disfiguration courtesy of Bellatrix Lestrange, a marking unknowingly avenged by Molly who had killed the absolutely mental witch during the war. Hermione had grown used to seeing it but aside from Harry and Ron? No one else had known about it. Not until now and this certainly wasn't the way she had wanted anyone to find out. Her eyes raised and she watched as Fred's brows pinched together. She watched his eyes twitch as they traced the letters slowly but rather than speak, he turned his focus to the new slash on her palm. For the first time, Fred was silent. He was never silent. Still, he cared for the gash in her hand, removing glass shards and disinfecting the wound, then he pulled his wand from his belt and used the end of it to cast a sealing charm along the length of the cut. The bleeding stopped and the healing process could begin but even with that done, Fred didn't drop her hand and she didn't move. It was Fred that spoke first, his voice lower than normal. She'd only ever heard it this low one other time. When George had lost his ear.

"Who?"

It was a simple word, a simple question, but even the brightest witch of their age found herself struggling to answer. She stuttered and stammered, unable to properly start a sentence for a moment until his gaze met her own and shocked her into speech.

"Bellatrix. Harry, Ron, and I were captured by a group of snatchers. Taken to the Malfoy manor. They found the sword of Gryffindor in my bag and she assumed we'd broken into her vault. At that point? We hadn't. Harry and Ron were taken to the dungeons and Bellatrix... well. You see," she explained quickly, tearing her eyes away as she fell silent.

"Was it done with magic?"

"What?"

"Was it done with magic or did she use something else?"

"The end of her wand but Fred.."

"Then there must be a way to heal it, yeah?"

"It hasn't faded even slightly from the day she gave it to me. I had Madam Pomfrey look at it after the war. Fred, it's cursed. It'll be like this until the day I die."

Another beat of silence but this time, Fred was tracing over the indents in her skin with his fingers slowly as he heaved a quiet sigh.

"Glad mum gave her what was coming to her then."

"Fred... Don't tell any of them about it. Not yet. I wasn't expecting any of you to find out so soon."

"Secret's safe with me. Guess the sweaters indoors make sense now," he muttered, slowly releasing her arm. "Go on and get cleaned up for dinner. I'll straighten up here and then go and have a shower...."

Hermione only nodded, pulling herself to her feet and heading for the stairs, turning back when Fred called out to her again.

"Granger... It's not true. Never has been. If anything? You're the start of a new pureblood line in my eyes."

With a small smile and one final nod, Hermione disappeared up the stairs towards her room.


	3. Three.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nightmares and a kiss?

The wait for a shower wasn’t nearly as long as usual and though she didn’t understand why, Hermione didn’t bother to ask. As soon as George, the last to shower, had exited the bathroom, she made her way in with her small basket of toiletries. Her cheeks still burned from her encounter with Fred in the kitchen. Her scar had quickly become one of her biggest insecurities. Not long after realizing it would never go away, Hermione had found herself wondering how Harry had dealt with his so easily as a child. Suppose his was a great deal easier to hide, though. His hair was always untidy and shaggy and covered most of his forehead. If he’d needed it covered, he could have managed. Hers? Hers was out on full display across the soft skin of her forearm. From time to time, it still ached, almost like she could feel Bellatrix dragging her wand across the flesh. The young woman worked in silence to start the shower, staring at the ceramic wall of the shower but not really seeing it at all. No, she was still seeing the pain and worry that had painted itself on Fred’s face. Had he wondered if she’d done it to herself? She would never. That simply wasn’t the kind of person Hermione was, never had been.

When the bathroom had effectively filled with steam and Hermione was sure the water was exactly as hot as she needed it to be, she shed her clothing and stepped under the heavy stream. She knew it was inconsiderate but for a while, Hermione only stood under the pelting water, eyes closed as it soaked through her hair and burned her skin. Any icky feeling she’d felt in the kitchen needed to be burned away. No shame, no embarrassment, no pain. The hot water helped, she’d found that out long ago. But again, the look on Fred’s face flashed across the backs of her eyelids and she found herself sinking to the floor of the shower. Maybe not the cleanest place to settle but she found that her legs could no longer support her, nor could she keep the dam together to keep back the tears. Quiet sobs began, Hermione reaching for her rag and beginning to scrub at the disfiguring mark on her arm. How awful. Logically, she knew this wouldn’t work, knew that it hurt, but she couldn’t stop herself. Oh, how desperately she wanted it gone.

She didn’t stop until the skin was raw, her tears no longer flowed, and the hot water hurt far more than she meant it to, at which point she finished off her shower and, wrapped in her towel, headed back to her room. Again, upon exiting the bathroom, she found herself passing Fred in the hall but this time, she couldn’t meet his eyes. He had seen her greatest shame, her biggest insecurity, and while that should have made them closer, she found herself far too embarrassed. He didn’t speak, either. Only watched her leave before taking his turn in the bathroom. Back in her room, she took her time to dress before settling into her chair, curled up as tightly as she could manage, Crookshanks found a spot as close as possible to his owner and curled up, falling asleep quite quickly. Hermione didn’t sleep. She stared out of the window in front of her, lazy fingers running over the sleeve of her sweater that now covered the mark on her arm. Hermione didn’t move for a while and even when Mrs. Weasley came to call her to dinner, she quietly declined, offering an excuse of not feeling very well. Maybe that wasn’t an excuse, though. She didn’t feel well, though it was more mentally and emotionally than feeling ill. Reluctantly, the older woman left the young witch to herself, shutting the door behind her.

If you asked her, she couldn’t have told you how long she sat there, all she knew was that when she finally brought herself back to earth, the last rays of daylight had long disappeared over the horizon and the stars were shining brighter than she ever remembered seeing them. Still, she found she wasn’t hungry and instead crawled into bed, her cat remaining in the chair where he’d been asleep for the past several hours. Heavy eyes faded closed and soon, Hermione herself was fast asleep, tucked in the comfort and security of her own bed. This. This was good and safe. This home, this family, was the one place Hermione knew that she was safe and protected. No one under this roof would ever let any harm come to her. No one in this family would ever let anything happen to her. And then she remembered.

Not even Harry had been able to keep her from harm.

When her eyes opened again, she was back on the cold floor of Malfoy Manor with Bellatrix hanging over her. She could see and smell the long, curly, dusty hair hanging around her face. She could feel the hot breath on her skin as insults and questions were hurled at her, questions she didn’t have the answers for, either. And Hermione? She was screaming. She could feel the tears pouring down her cheeks and was acutely aware of people watching. The Malfoys and the snatchers that had brought her and her friends to this cold, loveless building. She knew that wherever Harry and Ron were, they could likely hear her screams and do nothing about them; figured they probably felt a little guilty, too. So she fought and squirmed and cried, hoping to get away from the dark witch's grasp but to no avail. No, now she could feel the horrible slur being carved into her pale skin. The same sharp pain, the same sting. 

Brown eyes closed and then opened again and she found the only real part of anything she'd just felt was the tears and the raw feeling in her throat from her screams. Her eyes had barely been open a second when the door to her room burst open and one of the twins was settled on the bed beside her, an arm around her shoulders. Fred. It had to be. The cologne or aftershave or whatever he was wearing gave him away. She couldn't speak, not right away, no, she was too busy sobbing and clinging to the male that had joined her. He didn't speak either, instead shushing her quietly and tightening his hold on her shoulders. It was silent in the room aside from her sobs and his shushing until finally the sobs died down and Fred felt he could speak.

"What happened? What's wrong? Talk to me. I'm here, you're safe, but you gotta talk to me so I know how to help you," he said quietly, pulling her ever closer to rest his chin atop her head. Hermione remained silent. Though she knew it shouldn't have been the current focus, she found she was fixated on the fact that Fred had been the one to rush in. Fred. Not Ron. Not Ginny. Not Mrs. Weasley. No, it was Fred. That meant something. It had to mean something. Everything meant something in life, Hermione had learned. No matter how inconsequential something seemed, there was always a meaning. Finally, however, she pulled in a deep breath, reached to wipe her eyes, and spoke. 

"Nightmare. Bad one. I was back in Malfoy Manor. Bellatrix was…"

Fred stopped her, tightening his grip again and shaking his head. "You're here and you're safe and she's dead. Dead and gone. Can't ever hurt you again," he reminded her, his voice taking on the same tone it had the day before in the kitchen. There was comfort to be found in his voice, she realized. In fact, Hermione now found herself latched to his arm, the tears slowing, the sting in her scar fading slowly. That was almost enough to shock her just enough to distract her from the way he buried his face in her hair. Before she realized it, she was working to match her breathing to his, quiet and slow, careful and deep. Whatever she knew Fred to be, this was a side of him she wasn't used to, but, oh, how nice it was. Hermione liked it so much, actually, that she didn't even mind as his hand slipped up her shoulder, under her hair, up her neck, and moved to cradle the side of her face. Long fingers curled and twisted to rest under her jaw, pulling her face to his before he spoke again. "You're here with me. I would absolutely never let anyone hurt you." And it was with those words that he leaned in, lips pressing against hers in an almost shockingly gentle manner. Fred Weasley? A gentle side? That was unexpected but, of course, she wasn't complaining. No, instead she was returning his kiss, a hand closing around his wrist in hopes to keep his hand exactly where it had come to rest. The kiss lingered, leaving Hermione breathless and still when he finally pulled away and moved to stand, headed for the door.

"Get some more rest. Tomorrow will be better, 'Mione."

Then he was gone, leaving Hermione to drift back off to sleep with the taste and warmth of his lips still lingering against her own, her heart pounding in her chest. Fred Weasley had kissed her.

How unexpected.


	4. Four.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laying claim.

The next morning, only a few hours later, Hermione woke with a fog over her brain. The fog? The image of the kiss that had taken place in her very bed. The image of Fred comforting her, promising her that he would never let anything or anyone hurt her again. For a while, she didn't move, laying back against the pillows and staring at the ceiling. There was a lot to think about. Fred Weasley. He was the brother of one of her best friends. He was a troublemaker. Hermione herself was a rule follower. She was comfortable that way, though she had ventured out of her comfort zone in the past few years and gradually was becoming more comfortable with the adventurous side of herself that had been buried under the books and exams and essays. Even still, this was almost too much. Wasn't that a line that shouldn't be crossed? And what if Fred had only kissed her because she was upset or because he felt she'd saved his life or maybe a mix of both? And what would Molly say? What about Ron? What about Ginny, who undeniably was one of Hermione's closest female friends? She didn't have many of those, she suddenly realized.

Her thought was interrupted by that exact young redhead popping into her room, causing the brunette to jump just slightly before pulling herself to sit up. "Believe it or not, Ginerva, there's a thing called knocking," she snapped, reaching up to rub her eyes with the palm of her hand to work the sleep out of the corners of her eyes. Crookshanks took the chance of an open door to dart out of the room and likely head outside for a bit of hunting, not that Hermione or anyone else minded at all. She watched him leave as Ginny crossed the room and settled on the edge of the small bed. Though Hermione had been startled by the sudden entry, she wasn't angry. In fact, Ginny's face was a nice change from the constant image of how Fred had looked before he kissed her. It made her able to pull herself back into the words coming from Ginny's mouth now.

"Yeah, well locks also exist," she shot back, a grin pulling at her lips, causing Hermione's eyes to roll as she stretched. "Mum says breakfast is nearly ready. You slept late this morning, wanted to come and check on you." And that sentence warmed her heart. Ginny never had been the most empathetic but Hermione knew, very well, that she cared. There were many things the younger girl cared for. Quidditch, her friends, her family, and almost above all? Harry. Everyone knew and everyone was excited for them. Many of the adults around them had drawn the comparison of Harry and Ginny to James and Lily. The looks, if nothing else, were incredibly similar, almost jarringly so. This was no surprise, of course. Wasn't it a common thing for boys to pick women who reminded them of their mother? Would that be possible for Harry even though he hadn't ever really known his mother? "Anyway. Get up, get dressed. See you downstairs." And just like that, Ginny was gone, back out the door she'd come through and neglecting to close it behind her. Did all of the Weasley's have a proclivity to randomly appearing and disappearing?

Hermione finally pulled herself to her feet, stretched again, and headed to push the door closed, sighing quietly as she did. Even then, however, she didn't turn immediately to get dressed. No, she found herself leaning back against the door and raising her hands to run through her hair slowly. The image was back, Fred's eyes drifting closed as he leaned in, the way it felt to watch him disappear through the door to her room again, the way her heart had beat furiously against her ribs until she had finally fallen asleep. What was it going to be like to eat breakfast with a man who had kissed her and not said anything more than goodnight after the fact? But finally, Hermione shook herself from her thoughts and headed to the small dresser, digging through for a pair of jeans and whatever shirt she grabbed first, not at all paying attention. The clothes were thrown on and she took a few more moments to brush out her hair and tie it back in a french braid, just to get the bushy curls out of her way. Last came her sneakers before she was making her way down the stairs to meet with the family at last. Eyes, without any thought behind it, found Fred's face first, brown meeting brown but quickly flickering down to the smirk across his lips before he turned away though Hermione thought she might have caught a wink.

She was greeted with a smile and warm hug from Molly as always before taking her seat at the table as the older witch placed a plate in front of her and Hermione took to pushing her food around her plate almost absently. Conversation carried between the young adults, laughter and joking, talks of Harry arriving later in the afternoon. That excited Hermione. She missed the dark haired boy greatly. She still remembered the night in the tent when Harry had forced her into dancing, all in good nature of course. His goal, which had been achieved, was to lighten the mood. It had worked. Hermione had immediately felt better, even in Ron's absence. Harry had led everyone into war but had pulled them through it and taught them all their inner strengths. Harry had pushed through so much pain and had lost so many people. Yes, seeing Harry again would be wonderful.

But occasionally, Hermione could swear she'd caught Fred staring at her out of the corner of her eye, only to turn and find him looking at someone else, bantering along as he often did. It was rare to find any of the Weasley's being quiet. Even when they were sleeping, she knew them all to snore, though Ginny was much quieter than the rest. Regardless, Hermione's eyes flickered between the others, laughing at their jokes or stories, as she tried her hardest to ignore the older of the twins. When breakfast had ended and the table had been cleared, Hermione wandered back to her room to fetch her book from the chair. Her focus now was fully on the old dusty pages as she made her way back downstairs and out into the yard. A short walk brought her to the edge of a lake. It wasn't nearly as beautiful as the edge of the Black Lake back at Hogwarts, but Hermione loved being here just as much. It was peaceful and away from any bustling around the house that might happen. Plus? She knew she would be mostly alone here, settled on a tree stump, hidden by another tree. No, it wasn't likely anyone would spend their time spying on her because she wouldn't be very visible at all. Or at least that was what she hoped.

For a while, that was how it went; Hermione absorbed in her book or occasionally watching the surface of the lake. She was interrupted, however, by the sound of a branch crackling somewhere behind her. Her head spun only for her eyes to land on Fred. He'd come looking for her, it seemed, and much to her surprise, she didn't mind that he'd found her. Her hands worked on their own to place her bookmark in the spine of her book so that she could close it, turning her full focus to the redhead who was now working his way past the treeline and approaching her wordlessly. She stared, just as wordlessly, but even more breathlessly. He'd taken her breath away just by showing up. No, that wasn't right. Hermione'd had no intention of developing feelings for any of the Weasley boys, let alone Fred. So why were they starting to crop up? Why was she starting to look forward to seeing him and hoping he'd show up when she least expected it? Was it the kiss from the night before? It had to be, she decided. She'd never looked at him like that until last night.

Her mouth opened for her to speak but before she could, Fred had made himself at home next to her on the stump. He didn't speak as his hand raised and settled under the hinge of her jaw, drawing her forward for a kiss once more. This one was different. It was deeper, more intense, and Hermione thought she felt him shudder just slightly, but then again, maybe that was just her. It was strange the way her skin thrilled and prickled where he touched her, the way her heart began to race when he was close like this. Her fingers found home around his wrist as they had the night before but this time, Hermione was kissing him back, leaning into it and offering a small, almost silent, noise of approval. It only took him a moment to shift her into his lap and at first, Hermione fought this. "Fred, stop," she muttered, though that didn't keep her from returning her lips to his when he only pulled her closer, a hand splayed across the small of her back. Okay. Maybe she didn't want him to stop. But there were things to talk about before she could let this continue. When she couldn't catch her breath, when she couldn't feel her lips, she broke the kiss, pulling back and panting quietly as Fred reached to wipe a small spot of saliva from her lip.

"We shouldn't be doing this. Not like this," she managed finally, only for Fred to laugh, brown eyes rolling in their sockets. "I'm serious, Frederick. You've never... Not even once... Where is this even coming from?" As she spoke, the hand at her back ventured just under the hem of her shirt, nails drawing slowly across her skin, head dipping to let his lips rest just under her left ear.

"You remember what I told you by the Black Lake, don't you? About carrying you up to bed? You think I'd do that for just anyone? You think I'd tuck in a girl who I didn't fancy at least a little bit? Honestly, Granger. Thought you were meant to be the brightest witch of the age," he teased, breath heavy against her skin. It was a feeling she wasn't familiar with. Hot with a warmth that spread through her frame rather quickly, settling between her thighs. He seemed to know exactly what had happened, maybe her breath hitching had given her away. "You see, Granger, you're a bit more than you realize. Smart. Kind. Beautiful. For fucks sake, Hermione, you saved my life. Do you know what that meant to me? To George? If I didn't fancy you before, how could I not after that?"

She froze, head tilting just slightly away from him though her eyes fluttered closed. "You should have told me. Long ago, you should have told me," she offered almost silently, earning another quiet laugh from the male. "Why didn't you?"

"Not important. What matters? Is that we're here now. Granger, I'm not nearly as stupid as people think. I knew after last night that you were mine. You're mine, Hermione. Maybe you aren't ready to say it yet," he mused, pressing a kiss behind her ear before breathing against it. "But you're mine and you know it as well as I do." Silence as he pulled back again, looking her in the eyes. "I'm gonna leave you here to think about what I've said. Come and find me when you've accepted reality. You know where I'll be."

With that, he shifted the young witch back into her original place, stood, and was gone nearly as quickly as he'd shown up, leaving Hermione just as confused as the night before.


	5. Five.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor sleeping George.

“Come and find me when you've accepted reality. You know where I'll be."

The words rang in Hermione’s ears, heavier than the image of the first kiss, heavier than it had felt to wear the horcrux. It was a feeling she wasn’t used to having and the thoughts that accompanied it were no different. Images of she and Fred alone, with his breath on her neck or his lips on her skin. There were dirtier ones. The family was home but Fred was stealing her away, covering her mouth to keep her quiet, and having his way with her. Had this been any other time, from the past, Hermione would have shunned these thoughts and been absolutely disgusted with herself. But now? Well, now, she found herself entertaining the thoughts that flickered through her head as if played on a projector in her mind. Oh, how clearly she could see them all. She couldn't let it go any further, though. No, that wouldn't be right for many reasons. For starters, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had welcomed her into their home willingly, giving her a place to stay when she had nowhere else to turn. Further, what would Ginny and Ron say? They were two of her best friends, almost like siblings to her, so wouldn't it be morally wrong to strike up a sexual relationship, or any relationship other than friendly, with their older brother? Even still, as the days passed, Hermione couldn't get away from the curiosity, away from that undeniable attraction and arousal, that pricked at her very soul. Occasionally, she'd find herself watching him when no one was looking. Sometimes it would go unnoticed but sometimes their eyes would meet and Fred's lips would curl into a knowing smirk, a thumb sometimes smoothing over his bottom lip or a wink being shot her way, making her avert her gaze quickly or move to change the subject with someone else. He didn't get to mess with her head like that, she decided, and thus began a streak of trying desperately to ignore the ginger.

For a while? It worked. Hermione was able to throw herself into house chores or books and managed to ignore any glances or offhand comments. But as another day turned to dusk and then to night, Hermione found herself alone in her room, settled in her chair, and counting each star. Well. Sort of counting. The thoughts of the ginger were back and she was trying her best to focus back in on the stars but found it was nearly impossible. It was wrong, she reminded herself. Fred was meant to be like family and she owed Molly and Arthur more respect than that. But even as this thought passed through her mind, she pulled herself to her feet and headed down the few flights of stairs until she reached Fred and George's room. It was late and she was sure the twins would be long asleep. Sneaking into not one but two mens' room? Certainly not like Hermione but here she was, letting herself in as silently as possible and crossing to Fred's bed. Still as quietly as possible, her hand found the sleeping male's shoulder, nudging him and leaning to mutter his name quietly until she could see his eyes at last. As the initial leftover sleep wore off, smugness crept onto his face, lips curling into that same smirk. "Well, well. Come to our senses have we?" he rasped, his voice thick with sleep. It sent a chill down Hermione's spine but she held on a little longer, rolling her eyes as she raised a single finger to her lips. 

"Don't wake George," she breathed, settling on the edge of his bed as Fred pulled himself to sit. "I… No one can know about us right now, Frederick. If Molly… She'd kick me out, don't you think? Me fraternizing with one of her sons under her own roof? It's disrespectful…" Even as she spoke, Fred's hand was sliding over her thigh, thumb dipping under the hem of her shorts lazily, the male leaning in nose along her jaw.

"And yet here you are. It's late and you're on my bed, waking me up in the middle of the night. Why's that, Granger? Hm? You're smart. Go on."

"To tell you that we shouldn't be doing this at all," she shot back, though her voice was far less certain than she would have liked it to be. He caught it, too, snaring a small bit of her flesh between his teeth gently. 

"That might be the first question you've ever gotten wrong," he hummed, the hand not at her thigh finding her wrist instead. Slowly, her hand was guided to his lap and further into the waist of his trousers and boxers. She started to pull away but the heat, the firmness, of where her hand came to rest begged her to stay and so she did, breath caught in her throat as a low noise left his. "See? You know you've caused that, don't you? And you've thought about it. What it feels like. What I sound like. You think it'd fit, darling? Me? I'm not so sure. We might have to train you up…" He gave a laugh when she exhaled slowly but pressed his hips up against her hand carefully. Hermione turned, casting a glance at his twin who was still dead asleep. "Not here," she muttered, only for him to shake his head. Before she realized it, before she had a chance to register, she was on her back and Fred was hovering over her, one hand at the small of her back and pulling her away from the bed, the other planted against his headboard. "Why? I think this is the perfect spot to get you used to taking my cock. Teach you to be quiet since you don't want anyone to know. That's what you want, isn't it? You want me to teach you everything I know? To take care of you? You've thought about that little talk we had by the lake and you know it's true. You belong to me. Say it, Hermione. I'm gonna give you everything you need but you gotta say it first." Again her breath faltered and Fred was grinning, she could feel it against the side of her throat as he moved to kiss along the pale skin. He was right and Hermione knew she couldn't just ignore that anymore, even if she knew that would have been the better option. And so the words left her on a heavy breath.

"I'm yours, Frederick… yours."

Those four words seemed to trigger something in the male because almost immediately after, his hands were all but ripping her tee and pajama bottoms from her frame. He was generous with his kisses, lips finding their way down her neck, over her collarbone, and back again. Eventually they found her own and Hermione was once again caught in a heated lip lock, not unlike that they'd shared by the lake. Her nails dug into any skin she could reach as Fred's hands roamed and touched and stroked places no one else had ever touched. It wasn't until they brushed over her core, however, that Hermione pulled in a deep breath and Fred was shushing her as his long middle finger toyed along the slick skin. "Shh. Don't wake George. I'd hate for anyone but me to see you like this," he hummed against her ear. Catching her lip between her teeth, she nodded, just in time for Fred's finger to press into her core slowly. Oh, that was heaven. That was absolute bliss. Her head settled back against his pillow and brown eyes fluttered shut, a quiet noise leaving her as his lips ventured lower, latching onto one of her breasts almost as eagerly as his finger twisted and curled, helping Hermione's body relax and enjoy instead of tensing up. Her own fingers threaded in his hair, tight, nails digging into his scalp as she fought back soft noises of approval and enjoyment. She could feel the smugness radiating from his body, could feel his skin heating up, could feel herself getting wetter by the moment and knew he'd notice it, too. When he flattened his tongue against her nipple and drew it up along her skin, across her collarbone and up her neck, she gasped, a sound that caused George to stir across the room. 

Without missing a beat or stuttering in his movements, Fred's hand raised, cupping itself over her mouth lightly, for now. "Shh. I told you once. Don't wake George. Save those pretty little noises for when I can get you alone. Isn't that a wonderful thought? Just behave for me. Be a good girl. You're such a good girl all of the time. You can be good for me now, can't you?" he purred, watching as her eyes rolled closed. She nodded, shifting under him desperately and Fred took this as a sign to add a second finger, watching with joy and awe as her eyes shot open again and a low whimper rolled from her lips. "That's a good girl. Nice and quiet for me. Speaking of, look how absolutely drenched you are for me. You know, Hermione, I wonder if you taste as sweet as you sound. What's say you to me finding out, hm?" His hand slipped from her mouth to rest against the headboard again, allowing her the chance to speak. 

"Yes. Yes please," she answered, though her voice barely broke the silence, was barely loud enough for Fred to hear. That was almost all Fred needed to continue but there was a sick, twisted need to hear more from the girl under him. So instead, he pulled back completely, settling back onto his knees as his middle and ring fingers fell from her core and instead raised to his lips. He held her gaze as his tongue worked to clean the digits but once her arousal had been licked from his skin, he was quick to shed his own tee, gripping the back collar and tearing it effortlessly over his head to drop it off the side of the bed. Hermione watched, fighting the desire to cover herself. There was no point now and she knew that urge to hide came from instinct, from the same timid Hermione who had been all about her studies. It was time to grow and change from that, she decided. Besides, that simple image, the way he tore his shirt away so easily was enough to make the pool of heat between her thighs deepen even further. She realized she must have reacted physically because Fred's lips curled into a smirk as he leaned to hover inches from her face. 

"Look how beautiful you are. So pretty and needy," he mused. His fingers had found their way back to the slick, wet skin between her thighs. "Y'know… I was gonna spend some time tasting you but… I'd be lying if I said I could wait to feel you wrapped around me… you're still into it, yeah? Tell me you want it. Let me hear you." And that made her breath hitch, made her freeze and fight another series of quiet noises. A single nod as her own hand slipped between her thighs, fingers curling around his wrist. "Yes. Please. Please, Fred," she managed at last, to which he reacted by pulling his hand away and instead undoing the tie of his pajama bottoms. With only a few more movements, Hermione felt the head of his length sliding along her skin slowly. (Even as bright as she was, no thoughts of condoms ever crossed her mind.) Finally, a slow and careful movement was given, enough to guide himself into her core but without causing any pain or discomfort. He muttered quiet praises to her, assuring her that she felt like heaven and reminding her to relax which she found surprisingly easy. Finding herself here like this with Fred was, of course, nothing she ever expected but there were no complaints. Instead, when she was sure she could handle it, she was pulling him closer, deeper. If she felt like heaven, what words were there to describe how he felt? She couldn't think of any and even if she could have, her voice was too busy giving up soft noises, just loud enough for Fred and only Fred to hear. 

The male had fallen silent, returning to pressing heated kisses, open mouthed and wet, over her skin. She could feel the air cool her skin where he'd left behind small spots of saliva. Just as she'd gotten used to the initial feeling, something Fred seemed to catch onto, his strength increased. Slim hips snapped forward into the younger witch below him as his hand gripped her side, hard, fingertips digging into her flesh in a grip that was sure to leave behind violent marks. Again, there were no complaints from Hermione. Her noises grew louder but Fred was quick to cover her mouth again. "Shh. C'mon, now. I'd hate for this to end so soon, wouldn't you?" he breathed and she was quick to nod. Again she lowered her tone, the noises coming softer once more. Yes. Hermione would have been absolutely loathe for this encounter to end so quickly. It was all too perfect, despite certainly not being how she had pictured her first time going. 

Fred's hand, the one that had been over her mouth, slipped into her hair, cradling the back of her skull before knotting in the roots of bushy brown hair and his head fell, lips coming to rest near her ear. It was only then that she could hear the quiet groans and swears the ginger uttered against the shell of her ear. 

"Let's see if I can get you to cum for me," he insisted after a moment. The hand at her hip slipped away, back between her thighs to allow his long fingers to toy with her now-swollen clit. Brown eyes rolled closed and she found herself quietly ushering him on. "Right there. Just there. Please. God, Fred, it's good… it's so good," she whined. Exactly as she asked, Fred kept his movements just as they were until finally, Hermione's nails were sinking into his back, drawing down the pale skin and leaving angry lines as she came undone under him. That was all it took to send Fred over the edge of his own climax, pouring into Hermione with a few more quiet grunts before collapsing next to her, sweaty and breathless, laughing quietly. She almost expected it to end there but was delighted when Fred pulled her into his chest to kiss over her face. 

"I hate to send you back to your room but I'd hate for us to be found like this. You did say it needed to be a secret," he reminded. She agreed, gathering her clothes quickly but before she had the chance to stand and leave, he was pulling her in for another heated kiss.

"See you at breakfast."


End file.
